The Peace of Wild Things
by DolbyDigital
Summary: "Mama? Where are we going?" he asked, gripping her hand tightly. "Somewhere safe," she said, her voice reassuring.


**A/N -** Written for Round 4 of QL – writing from the point of view of a centaur – with the optional prompts [word] Soul, [quote] 'Not all who wander are lost', and [poem] 'The Peace of Wild Things'.

Also, I have no idea what terminology centaurs might use, or even how to properly characterise them.

And thank you to Rose [RawMateriel] for beta'ing.

* * *

"Mama? Where are we going?" he asked, gripping her hand tightly.

"Somewhere safe," she said, her voice reassuring.

"But we've been walking for _days_ ," he whined. "And we're not in the forest anymore. Papa said we always had to stay in the forest."

"I know he did," she said softly, smiling down at the foal. "But that was when the forest was safe."

"It isn't safe anymore?" He looked up at his mother, tears filling his eyes. "But how will Papa find us if we're not there?" His mother stopped then, pulling him to the side of the herd.

"We've talked about this," she whispered, tilting his head up so that he was looking at her.

"But, Mama–"

"No, you must listen to me now," she said, her face firm but voice still softly reassuring. "We have to keep going. It is not safe here."

"But what are we running from?" he asked, his tone nearing a whine again. She paused for a moment, debating.

"We are not running," she said. "Simply looking for a better home."

"Eowor?" A voice called from the front of the herd. They turned to look, to see that the others had halted. "Is there a problem?"

"No problem," she said. "But the foal is tiring." She ignored her foal's glare and kept her attention on the other centaur.

"We are nearing a lake. We shall set up camp there," he said. He turned, the rest of the herd following his lead, and galloped through the trees.

"Mama–"

"Come, now. We mustn't stray too far from the herd," she said, taking his hand once more.

"But I'm not tired," he said.

"Of course you are. We all are."

"No, Mama–" His words trailed off into a yawn just as they entered the clearing.

Wordlessly, she settled him down with the other foals, ignoring his mumbled complaints.

.oOo.

"Mama?" he croaked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Mama?" he called, louder this time.

"I'm here," she said, stepping into his line of sight. "What do you need?"

"Mama, where are we?" he asked, pushing himself up onto shaky legs. "Is this our new home?"

"No." She smiled, helping him to remain steady on his hooves. "But we're nearly there."

"But _where_ are we going?" he whined, pushing his mother's hands away from him. "And don't just say it's somewhere safe, Mama." She tilted his chin up, frowning down at him.

"We do not always know our destination, but as long as we know what direction we need to go in we know we are on the right path."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"It means you shouldn't worry," she said. "We will arrive where we need to be, when we need to be there. For now, let the stars be our guide and trust in your soul. We will know when we get there."

"That's not a very good answer," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

"It is the only answer you are going to get."

.oOo.

"Why can't we stay here?" he asked when, an hour later, the herd began to gather.

"Because this is not our home," she said.

"But I'm tired of walking!" he complained. "And it's nice here."

"It's too open," she said. "Our kind live in forests." She took her son's hand as the herd began to move, making sure he kept pace.

"I like the lake," he said petulantly, trying unsuccessfully to pull his hand from her grasp.

"There will be a lake where we are going," she promised.

"How can you know that? You said you don't know where we're going."

"One day, you will learn," she said.

"That doesn't help me now," he muttered. If she heard him, she didn't bother to reply.

.oOo.

The sun was just beginning to set, signalling the end of another day spent on the move, when the herd began to slow.

"What is it?" he asked his mother, tugging her hand to get her attention. She shushed him quickly, and turned to face the small man waiting at the edge of the forest.

"Welcome," he said, his voice magnified by the stick pointed towards his neck.

"Mama, what's that?" he whispered, pointing at it.

"He's a wizard," she muttered, distracted, gesturing for him to stop talking.

"–are honoured to have–" the man continued.

"What did he say?" he asked, craning his neck in an attempt to see better. His mother only replied with a cutting look this time, and he quickly fell silent.

"–here at Hogwarts," the man finished.

"So we are expected to live under the watch of humans?" a young centaur asked from the back of the herd.

"We already have several herds here," the man said. "They told us that you would be the last to arrive. That your herd would complete the colony."

"But that doesn't explain your presence," the same centaur said.

"I am merely here to welcome you to our school."

"Why do we need to go to school, Mama?" he asked.

"Shh!" she hissed.

"The colony will be given a portion of the forest – somewhere no students will be likely to stumble across – to do with as you will."

His mother regarded the man for a long time, making him visibly uncomfortable. He could see the human sweating from where he stood.

"Lead the way," his mother said, giving a slight incline of her head.

"Of course, of course." He turned quickly and spread his arms in a gesture meant to encompass the entire forest. "Welcome to your new home. The rest of your colony awaits you."


End file.
